I initially sought to create an art goal that would both connect me to the horse community in my area as well as to build my skills in painting the individuality and essences of a horse, such that a person could recognize that horse, even if I used abstraction to expand on my current thinking. I came up with the idea of painting a different horse for each moon cycle. I found a lot of interest in myself for both watching the moon and its changes, as well as for cultural and astrological connections.
Art, for me, encompasses such a vastness. There's history in the actual practice of making physical marks to tell a story. Shapes, lines, and colors have enamored eyes like mine. Hands have blended paint and hues and struggled to represent what is in the mind. Tradition abounds through art movements and technical considerations. Composition, color theory, continual growth based on prior elements, all of these are elemental to art. Add in math theory, with all of the concreteness and absolutes to stabilize the flexibilities of the uncertain.
The moon, in all of its waxing and waning and newness and fullness, is already mapped out. What is not predictable is the weather below; the rains and snows and how brightly the sun will shine each day.
On the path of my year-long project,I fell instantly behind. And all of the reasons, they feel like excuses. Like I haven't turned in an assignment, and I am trying to validate why it will be late. And perhaps they are excuses, and perhaps excuses are just reasons. I do know that the moon which I once loved and followed with such glee become a constant reminder of work I wasn't doing, of time slipping away. Of commitments set aside.
All of the planning, the mapping, the time scheduled to work on my moon paintings were blown away by the storms of life. And perhaps I will get to that, in time, those storms. And storms aren't bad. Floods bring nutrients, new seeds. The rains water the grasses and plants, letting them come to fruition and bloom with all of the vigor with which they are destined. The snow, even the frigid cold that ices your breath and pricks your cheeks, allows for that great dormancy for recovery. And in that darkest of night, when the full moon rises, one can see with almost the clarity of daylight.
What I do have is this:
*one finished painting, the February horse from the Snow Moon
*one partially finished painting, sitting in my studio, resting in its state of partial visibility, the January horse from the Wolf Moon
*one started painting from the March horse of the Crow Moon
And a pause.
I'll need an umbrella of sorts for 2020, when I am to resume my project. A way to clarify my time and efforts for a project of this magnitude.
But for now, a postponement.